Helioskan
by concretya
Summary: Marek Helioskan’s woeful tale of siblings and surnames. And George Cooper, because George Cooper caused it all. Indirectly. Unknowingly. Damn coincidences. [oneshot]


**Author's Note: so I made up a family for him. And an original last name. Whee. And I'm not bothering to type out accents, because what's the point if every single character has the same basic accent?**

**I don't own the characters or setting or anything like that.**

* * *

Marek Helioskan had a good few brothers and sisters, but it was highly doubtful that they were all his father's. There was one younger sister, Letisia, who was undoubtedly Marek's sibling from both parents, and two elder ones, Dena and Jomes, as they all shared the tan skin, the brown hair and eyes, and the sharp facial features. But it was equally as obvious that mature Lera, dashing first-son Eresan, and little Migan were not. Of course, neither did they seem to be entirely related to each other. And then there were the cousins, some of whose parentage Marek couldn't even begin to figure out, and the "cousins," about whom each Helioskan child had a different conspiracy theory. 

But all this mixing and muddling never really affected anything, for Marek's mother and father were both loving to all members of the family, and, generally speaking, Marek and his myriad of siblings stayed on good terms. There was the time Migan had accidentally ruined the latest fling of Dena though an ill-timed temper tantrum, and the regularity of fistfights between Marek and Jomes, which the latter was always able to win despite being a girl, and there was the fact that the little house was so full of comings and goings on the average day and the door was always open for easier access even in the heart of winter, but they were a family, and the open door never attracted thieves, for it came with a guarantee of some impatient youth lurking in the shadows of the front hall, waiting for friends or helpless passersby to snare.

And all these siblings provided excellent coverage for the possible friendships and alliances in their little subsection of the city. There was hardly a seller on the closest market that had not at one point been aided by Eresan, Jomes, or Lera, or at least spent hours cooing over Migan and Letisia. A good few of them were in the habit of shouting out to any Helioskan who passed, though Marek had several times accidentally been called Eresan's name; at least it was most often Eresan, who was older and popular with the ladies, and only once had the old and feeble-minded bakery woman called him Jomes, considering height and age to be more of a factor than gender.

So, when Marek decided to pick up a little extra for the family, and surreptitiously sneaked a few coins from a foreigner who would probably otherwise have spent them in patronage for his friends, he was able to remind himself that they were kind to these vendors anyway, and bought from them even when the quality was lower, and would possibly help them out in the future. It didn't always work, but the success rate increased over time.

Of course, this wide range of acquaintances also meant that members of Marek's family often ran into awkward circumstances with various people, and Marek suspected that gossip and dislikes flew heavily among those youths in between his own age and Dena's. Dena, in particular, managed to rack up quite a list of people with whom relationships had failed; but for some reason, the day when her blacksmith-apprentice beau called off courtship of her, she was more upset than usual. Apparently the man had been more interested in a merchant girl, who had been involved with a man named George, except he had finally broken it off with her, and Dena had walked in on their comfort session.

"_Why!" _Dena bellowed dramatically in the front hallway of their house. She always had a penchant for exaggeration, especially where males were concerned- and that included her male relatives. She had been the one, when the majority of them were children, to form an exclusive Order with the relatives and snidely reject Marek and cousin Kernam on the basis of their masculinity. "_Why are men so stupid? Why would he choose somebody who's just been rejected? Why would he take leftovers like that?_ If this 'George Cooper' didn't want her, why should _he?"_

Marek, who had been lurking, tried to say something as soon as Dena noticed his presence and started directing the rant towards him about halfway through. Of course, all he got out was a "Well doesn't-" before she continued.

"Why didn't he want to stay with me, anyway? Wasn't he having fun? _I _was having fun! Why_ couldn't he at least pretend he still liked me and just see her off to the side like mother and father and whoever else she's seen and that way we can still all enjoy it?"_

Marek blinked for a moment at this statement, but it was not so surprising and not really offensive, so he attempted to continue with what he usually said when Dena worked herself up, a lighthearted "Well, _I _think you're well rid of him- what possessed you to pick _him_, anyway?"

Apparently, though, this time was More Serious than the others- perhaps she had wound the tension further by waiting and listening to her former lover and his new lady rant about this Cooper and coo at each other and promise sappy promises- and it was the wrong thing to say. Dena glared at him. "You little _slug,_" she said, "Think you have the rights to judge _my_ relationships? You've never even had one- you're just a scrawny teenaged boy with scrawny teenaged boy hormones and you don't know _anything."_

"I am _not_ scrawny-" Marek said, suddenly indignant, for this was one of his buttons easiest to push.

"Yeah, well, I've seen you and Jomes go at it, and you sure look scrawny to me. It's almost amusing to watch you lose every time, you know, Marek, even though Jomes usually feels bad about it afterwards."

"I'd like to see _you_ try to beat her! She's a terror!"

"I know I'd do better than _you- _and don't even try it, bucko, I'm even older than she is, I could _definitely _beat your scrawny little ass-"

Marek was hardly hesistant to launch himself at her; but her taunts had some truth. Being rather fond of putting on ladylike airs, Dena was not quite as skilled at fighting as Jomes, and couldn't land a hit or any other offensive move, but did manage to quite effectively repel her younger brother so that they both went stumbling off to opposite walls of the corridor. Whether it was this success, or the lack of an even greater one, that encouraged her, Marek couldn't be sure, but Dena's anger was definitely merely fueled more, and she seemed unable to stop herself. Part of Marek's brain briefly tried to figure out if he had done anything to annoy her lately- and he couldn't think of anything more serious than mocking her- in a friendly way, of _course_- the last time she had gone out in a new dress- but he quickly focused on survival instead. Dena would regret it later, but in the meantime, the others were out, and Dena's verbal battering continued.

"Oh, right, I'm _sorry,_ I _forgot_ about all your _other_ combat skills. Like that knife work I saw you doing the other day! Yeah, little brother, I saw you, and _Mithros, _you have _so much skill. _What, you going to grow up to be some famous fighter? Join the army or something, eh? Join the _Provost's Guard? _Give yourself a new name and grow up to be a famous bandit? _Marek Bladeswinger_ or, or, Marek _Look-at-me-I'm-no-longer-a-teenager-but-still-scrawny-but-at-least-I-have-all-these-_knife-skills? Marek _Swiftknife?"_

Marek stared at his sister rather blankly.

"Going to deny the name of Helioskan, are you? Because all the Gods know that gullible tramp Dena is a Helioskan?" Dena's voice raised to quite a substantial shriek. "Well don't worry, I bet none of us are related anyway! None! I mean, I don't even remember when you were born, so you can't be mum's! _You aren't Helioskan!_" With the last comment, she tore a ring off her finger, a simple ring that her blacksmith beau had made to fill a requirement of his master, then given to her, chucked it hard in Marek's direction- he ducked- started sobbing, and fled upstairs.

Marek stood stunned, then kicked the ring as far upstairs as he could, and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

An hour later, he had walked to quite a different section of Corus than he usually made his rounds in, for this time he made a beeline away from his house. His affront had cooled a bit, since it never stayed up for long anyway, but it was fair to say he was still quite irked at his sibling. She had no call to go taking it out on him, particularly as, if she hadn't offended him quite so much, he and Jomes may have made a little trip to harass all three strangers involved. But now he wouldn't bother.

In fact, he was by now getting rather bored of this angered walk, and slowed down, looking around him at the people. He had been all over the city before, of course, but he didn't know anyone from this section by name, had never really chanced to interact with any of the youths his age. One of whom was lurking nearby. Oh, blessed entertainment! Apparently the stranger- who, on second thought, appeared to be ever so slightly older than Marek himself- had the same idea, for his gaze became interested as soon as he saw Marek. The two boys gravitated towards each other, then stood trying not to look interested.

"Hey," the other finally said, "I haven't seen you around here before."

"No," Marek agreed casually, "I'm not around here much- and I can't say I've ever seen you around Portreath Market, either."

The other smiled. "George Cooper."

George Cooper? Marek's mind was rather blown. For a second time that day. What did this day have against him, anyway? What did this city have against him, that such coincidences happened? It was just like Dena to start some sort of feud between him and someone he'd never met before. It was just like his family. Which Marek doubted George had ever actually heard; if it was true that he had initiated it all, there was no reason for him to have ranted or been ranted to about "that Dena Helioskan."

Which meant that George didn't know his family. George didn't know how infamous Dena was with the boys, George had never been outshadowed by Eresan in neighborhood games, George had never been forced to stand around, bored out of his skull, while his mother admired a little baby Helioskan. This was good. This was also a perfect way to get back at Dena. She had apparently exiled him from her family, so why shouldn't he go make friends with her newest worse enemy? Secretly, and then once she apologized, which he knew she would, no harm done. Besides, the boys in his neighborhood were getting rather boring, and preferred following Eresan around anyway. And giving a false name would definitely make Marek look cooler in George Cooper's eyes, right?

What was that name Dena had used?

"Marek Swiftknife."

* * *

Jomes met him at the door when he returned home, taking in his appearance and smiling ruefully. "You know her," she said, "blubbered out the whole story to me when I found her crying in our room, but it doesn't take a mage to realize she probably, ah, told you in a more _violent_ fashion. And now she's really panicked that you hate her, and wants to settle it before Mom and Dad come home." 

Marek nodded, but before he could say anything, he heard hurried footsteps on the creaky old stairs; a tearstained, rumpled Dena came barreling down. "It's you!" she said, sounding relieved, and almost smothered him in hug. Although Dena had a tendency to lose control quite often, she was never any more hesistant with apologies. "Look, Marek, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I was horrible…"

"It's fine," Marek managed to slip in, muffled against her shoulder.

"And I was lying, you know that, right? I mean, I really _do _remember when you were born, I was so happy that it was a little brother-"

Well, of course Marek knew that; she only took the opportunity to reflect on his baby stories whenever his new friends- or, on those rare occasions, a girl- were over. "I'm scrawny, not _stupid¸_" he told her. She pulled far enough away from him to smile at him for an uncomfortably long moment. In true teenaged boy fashion, Marek took this opportunity to wriggle out of her embrace. "It's fine, Dena. Though," he added mischievously, "you probably owe me, now."

"All right," Dena said; and then her expression suddenly turned brusque, as if she realized she was covered in tears and hugging her younger pest of a brother. "You know, though," she said seriously, "about your knife practice, or whatever the hell it is, I really _do _recommend against it. I mean, if _I _can catch you at it, what about Mum and Father? Or even Lera and Eresan? None of them would be pleased. Really, Marek, what's the _point_ anyways?"

Marek sighed loudly, looked at Jomes, who rolled her eyes, and covered his ears. "Dena, how about you repay me _now._"

* * *

Marek and George had seen each other sporadically, but when they did, they had quite a fun time causing chaos around various parts of the city, and both were pleased to find the other lacking any stick up the rear and willing to engage in not-quite-legal activities. By now, though, they had worked their way around to Portreath Market, and, though he was fairly sure she hadn't the slightest clue what George Cooper _looked_ like, Marek had made sure Dena was out, with her new suitor. 

This, however, did not protect Marek from his friends in the marketplace. And this just had to be the time the old bakery-woman remembered his first name as well as his last, and called out a cheery, "Hello, Marek Helioskan!" Marek cursed anew the fact that these folks seemed to enjoy saying his last name, as if it were more fun to pronounce than other words.

"Helioskan?" George asked. "That you?"

"Yep," Marek said, kept his gaze away from George, and waved at the old woman, who had already turned away anyway.

"You said Swiftknife," George said, his voice carefully blank, though Marek suspected George was rather suspicious.

"Who would honestly name their baby boy 'Swiftknife?'" Marek replied in a jesting manner, after pausing for a moment.

"Why?"

"No reason."

"So… you just made up a new name, and decided to try it out on whomever you first met, and that happened to be me?"

"Yeah, basically."

A crooked smile began forming on George's face. "You lied to me, though."

"Sorry," Marek said insincerely. "I mean, yes. After all," he said with exaggerated bravado, "you're from a foreign part of the city, and we're in Helioskan area now, so yes, I lied to you."

"Am I going to have to fight you for this grave insult?"

Marek pretended to think about it for a moment. "Perhaps some other day?"

"When you manage to actually live up to this new name you fashioned, you mean?"

Marek glared at him. "Oh, be quiet."

George laughed. "Well, in all seriousness, I can understand how you would be, ah, reluctant to loiter around here, with such enthusiastic admirers…."

"And the constant danger of running into my family," Marek interjected, "And I doubt you want to run into my mother- or, ah, sister- today."

"So we can go somewhere else. There's this Inn I think you'll enjoy, Marek Swiftknife…"


End file.
